


drink up your movements (still can’t get enough)

by joppers



Series: MCU Kink Bingo 2018 [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 04:21:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16527257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joppers/pseuds/joppers
Summary: Every mission needs a cool down.





	drink up your movements (still can’t get enough)

**Author's Note:**

> Set in an AU season 6 that acts like Phil didn’t die/was never dying and is instead just a field agent rather than director now! Title from The Louvre by Lorde.

By the time the Zephyr touches down back at base, it’s near midnight- only Daisy is waiting for them to give report, and even she’s yawning, exhausted from a long week. But it had been a successful mission, and Director Mackenzie had given them the weekend off for the first time in weeks.

“You’re catching flies, Agent Johnson, go to bed,” Phil’s voice is soft, and Daisy whips her head up, though her expression gentles into a look of sheepishness as she stifles yet another yawn.

“Not my fault your partner had me up before dawn to do tai chi,” she teases, throwing a look at Melinda, who merely lifts an eyebrow.

“And you’ll be up again tomorrow if you know what’s good for you,” she replies, and Daisy rolls her eyes, picking up her tablet and standing.

“Good night,” she throws over her shoulder before she leaves the room, and therefore the two of them alone- Phil’s eyes drift over Melinda’s form, draped effortlessly in her chair. She lazily lolls her head to the side, hair falling over her shoulder.

“In the mood to go a few rounds?” she asks, voice low and hitting him in his gut; interest fills him, and he lifts an eyebrow.

“With you? Always,” he answers, watching as she stands, and then offers her hands to him; he takes them, marveling once again at the power held in such delicate bone structure as she pulls him up.

Melinda leaves one set of their hands twined, leaving Phil feeling pleasantly warm all over- even now, over a year into this relationship, he can’t help but wonder what he’d ever done to be lucky enough to have this; to have _her_. The gym is obviously empty, given the time, and they set themselves up easily on the mats.

The two of them fall into the rhythm of sparring easily. Phil and Melinda had spent so much time here, like this- decades of fighting and feigning and sparring- that it’s like second nature, and before long they’ve picked up speed. Phil catches the way Melinda’s lips curl upwards into a smirk, the cockiness he’s always loved about her shining through, and in the moment he’s distracted, she’s sweeping his legs out from underneath him.

His back hits the mats, and moments later, her warm weight is settling over his hips, her hands by his head as she leans in close.

“Gotcha,” she murmurs, breath against his skin sending shivers down his spine as Phil attempts to stifle a groan. “You’re getting slow, old man.”

“I thought you liked slow. Meant I was taking my time,” Phil replies, his own hands finding their way to her hips, gripping lightly before slipping beneath the hem of her top. Melinda hums, lips finding the hinge of his jaw and dragging her mouth along the line of the bone, pulling a grunt from Phil when she nips at his pulse point.

Impatient now, Phil nudges his nose along her jaw until he can get her mouth on his; Melinda’s hands come to run through his hair, tongue running along his lower lip until he opened up beneath her.

Running his palms up her sides, Phil drags her shirt up and over her head, forcing them to break the kiss as Melinda sits up, settling herself firmly over his hips as she tosses it aside. She rolls her hips once, an amused smirk curling her lips at the groan that emanates from Phil’s chest.

“How’s the back?” she asks, palms smoothing over his chest as she bends closer, kissing him again.

“Could do with a change of scenery. And Mack might kill us if we fuck on these mats again,” he replies, pulling a low chuckle from Melinda before she nods and climbs off of him, offering her hands to him once more and pulling him to his feet.

Once standing, Phil’s hands make their way to her hair as he backs her up to the wall beside the men’s locker room, hand on her ass before he lifts her up, her legs wrapping around his hips easily to hold herself in place. Her own hands aren’t idle- they tug at his shirt, pulling it up, and together they use the wall for leverage until Melinda can sling the fabric away as though it had offended her.

Nimble fingers stroke over the scar bisecting his chest, followed closely by warm, soft lips that cause his eyes to slip shut at the tender touch.

“You planning on actually getting into the locker room, or just taking me against this wall?” Melinda’s voice is soft and amused in his ear, fingers teasing the hem of his pants, and Phil snorted, nipping at her collarbone before lifting her up higher and nudging open the locker room door.

Walking the few steps to one of the benches, Phil sinks down, Melinda settling in his lap with her arms around his neck, mouth finding his once more.

Her hips rock down into his firmly as his tug at her bra- their lips part so he can tug it up and over her head, his mouth following the line of her jaw before it ducks to lick the sweat from the column of her throat, then suck a nipple into his mouth. Melinda lets out a soft cry, her fingers curling against the back of his head to hold him closer.

“Okay. Pants- off now,” Phil says when he pulls back, his hands tugging at her pants, struggling from his seated position. Humming with amusement, Melinda slips off his lap, bending and tugging off her pants, leaving herself bare.

The smile she gives him is soft as she settles herself back over his hips, leaning down to kiss him as she loops her arms around his neck. Phil responds easily, groaning as he reaches a hand down and lines them up, helping her sink down onto him. Melinda’s unable to hold back the gasp that forms in her chest as he fills her up, tighter than usual without any workup beforehand, and Phil’s hands grip her hips tightly as he struggles not to thrust up into her. Once she was fully seated on him, Melinda paused, inner muscles tightening around him as she adjusted, Phil’s mouth taking the time to leave a small red mark on the indent of her collarbone. She shifted her hips, bumping her clit against his pubic bone with the movement and pulling a soft moan from her; she tossed her hair over her shoulders, unable to keep the smile from her lips as Phil looks up at her, lifting a hand to brush the dark strands from her eyes.

She starts to move, slowly at first- pulling a chorus of sighs and pants from the both of them as she takes one of Phil’s hands and guides it up her chest from where it had been holding her hip. His hand cups the soft flesh of her breast, kneading gently but with increasing pressure- his thumb brushes her pebbled nipple until he pulled a low moan of his name from her throat, her hips rocking against his faster. “Phil. Harder. _Please._ ”

His hand slides south once more, gripping her hips and planting his feet on the cool tile floor of the locker room, thrusting up into her harder, and he pulls a high-pitched moan from Melinda as her head tilted back, hair spilling around her shoulders like ink. The room was filled with the sounds of skin-on-skin and her moans and his encouraging voice, low and heated as he helped her pick up the pace.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Phil lets out a low grunt, leaning back slightly for more leverage and Melinda gasps, nails sinking into his skin as her hips jerked against him. Phil’s finger slipping over her clit is enough to send her flying into orgasm, dragging Phil up and over with her, his name leaving her lips in such a breathless murmur he feels his toes curl.

Panting, Melinda rests her forehead against his, brushing her nose along his before pecking Phil’s lips softly. Words have never felt like enough when it came to Melinda; he skims his hands down her back, holding her close as they catch their breath.

“Shower?” he asks, squeezing her hips gently, and Melinda nods, scratching lightly at the base of his neck.

“We still have to walk to our room here, because I am not driving home,” she replies, pulling a low chuckle from Phil and shifts her slightly in his lap. She kisses him once more, hands on his face briefly before she gets to her feet, stretching out her back.

Phil’s eyes drift over her form as she walks over to the showers, listening to the fall of water, watching the steam rise to the ceiling as the hot water runs.

“Phil,” her voice recaptures his attention, and the softness that lines her eyes sends his heart swooping down to his toes. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Phil lips quirk up at that, and he hauls himself off the bench.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”


End file.
